Page 102 of The Haunting Plot

“Better.”

Once the kids are settled, I sneak downstairs and head into the kitchen to do the dishes. This old house doesn’t have a dishwasher, and I know Raven hates washing them by hand. I make a mental note to add that to my list of projects.

“You’ve been washing that same dish for the past five minutes,” Raven says, her voice cutting through the silence.

I startle, dropping the plate into the soapy water. “Shit. I thought you were a ghost. I really need to get my sheet together.”

“Ha ha.” She walks over, placing an arm on my back. “It’s okay. I’ve got this,” she says.

“No, I told you I’d do this for you, and I should do it.”

She shoots me an icy glare. “You were called out on a five-alarm call at a construction site.”

“How did you know that?”

“My brother.” She places her hands on my shoulders and guides me to the couch. “Sit.”

“This feels like a trap.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m lazy or that I’m getting too comfortable.”

She scoffs like I’ve offended her, and I wince. “I would never think that. You’re the chief of a fire department in an area prone to wildfires. You work way too many hours, and what little free time you have, you’re either with your kids or over here. It might do you some good to be lazy, because you’ve got a much bigger problem.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips. It’s faint, but it’s there, and I wait for her to sink her claws into me.

“You’re old.” She pats my head as she saunters into the kitchen, and I stare behind her in wonder. What did I do to deserve a woman like this? I spent my entire marriage trying to prove myself to a woman who never really saw me, and here comes Raven, accepting every part of me like it’s not the burden I’ve been made to feel it is.

——————

“I made something for you,” I say, tugging Raven’s hand as she fights me. She’s done this several nights this week, and I was thankful for the distraction as it gave me time to finish her surprise.

“Sawyer, I need to finish this.”

“For the past forty-five minutes, you’ve been staring at your computer like it offended you.”

“That’s just my face.”

“No, that’s the face you make when you’re stuck.”

She leans back in her chair, and her robe peeks open. It’s an effort not to point it out or ask her for a cracker.

“Ugh. You’re right.”

“Was that so hard?”

Her blue eyes flash to mine. “Yes.”

“You need a change of scenery, and I have the perfect thing.”

“If you think it’ll help,” she mutters as she follows me upstairs.

“I know you’ve been busy the past few weeks trying to get your book done. So busy, you didn’t notice what I built for you.” I pause outside the door to the guest bedroom.

“If this is another red room joke⁠—”

Well, shit. Maybe she’s going to hate this.